here is a book of poems What are you going to read. It is a love letter. I had to write. I love you as I do not know And you do not know For I am your my beautiful India Indian I know what I know I do not know the taste of what the sources where I’m not drunk The path where I’m not the sea that give me a patch of blue that separates birds flourish and dreams I love you like I know And you already know. From this you get paleographic mark on my skin, that keeps me dreaming a different sea. Sea mine that is you.

Image by SimplySteff, via Flickr

Once again I am writing to you. Feel kissed, because you are reminded every day. Should I ask him not to feel jealous of September. It is true that I have a large involvement in September, a love affair, surely you would say, but I love you so much, that I loved so much, or I’ll love you even more. So never mind September. Let me offer my poetry, I have already told you the economy in the dream, the love … Believe me my dear, whenever you go back there to find me the same, ever, to wrap you in warmth and cover you with verses, maybe even more beautiful than the gift it now for September. September offering me flowers, colours … intoxicates me, makes me tender … but how can I tell you what you do for me? It’s probably the indescribable live and what we feel for each other. So beautiful!

Cover of I Love You So Much